In The Blood
by donnaann55
Summary: Kurt doesn't know what's wrong with him. His head is killing him, his eyes are sensitive to light, and he can't eat anything.
1. Chapter 1

**In The Blood**

**Chapter 1: What's Wrong?**

Music filters through into his dreams, and Kurt hits the alarm. He sits up and groans. What? Again? This makes the third morning in a row that he's woken up with a killer headache. He stares at himself in the mirror as he swallows two Advil. O.K. If he wakes up like this again tomorrow, he'll make a doctor's appointment. Maybe he needs glasses? Kurt turns the shower on. Thinking about glasses, as he soaps up, he starts to feel better because, hey, new fashion accessory!

Kurt climbs out of his Navigator. As he crosses the parking lot, he's grateful that dumpster dives are no longer part of his daily routine because he's just not up to it. It's not only the headaches. He's been really tired lately, like wiped out. Maybe it's the flu? He starts to remove his sunglasses as he enters the school but the light hurts his eyes so he leaves them on. O.K. There's definitely something wrong with his eyes.

* * *

Week Two and Kurt's not any better. Actually, he's worse. He's practically living on Advil and he wears sunglasses all the time, even in the house. Finn and his Dad tease him about the sunglasses. They think it's some new fashion statement. Kurt just laughs and says that he's thinking of starting a rock band. He's seen doctors and they can't find anything wrong with him. He doesn't need glasses. He hasn't told his family that anything's wrong. He doesn't want them to worry.

* * *

Week Three and Kurt's freaking out. He feels awful. He's tired and nauseous all the time. He can't stand the thought of food. Just the odour of food cooking makes him gag. He's subsisting on juice and ice cream. Burt stops teasing him about the sunglasses. Finn's really gentle around him, speaking softly as if Kurt is a hospital patient. Carole's eyes are on him all the time. They're all worried about him. The only thing he can think to do is stay away from them, so they won't see how sick he is. He starts to spend a lot of time driving aimlessly around town.

* * *

Week Four and Kurt looks like hell. This morning he just couldn't summon the energy to dress properly, so he walks into school wearing sweat pants and a baggy black turtleneck. The turtleneck is cashmere though, because even a deathly ill Kurt Hummel has standards.

Mercedes takes one look at him, and drags him into the girl's washroom. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Kurt tugs at his sweater and tries to stand up straight. "I slept through my alarm this morning. I didn't have time to put an outfit together."

"Don't give me that crap! You've been acting weird for weeks." His BFF puts her hands on her hips. "Do you think we're all stupid? You look like shit. You're not eating. You fall asleep in class. You haven't said a thing in Glee in like forever. You didn't even argue with Rachel over that solo. What the hell is going on with you?"

Mercedes stares at him, waiting for an answer. Silence! His BFF loses it. "And what the fuck is with you and those sunglasses?" She reaches over and rips them from Kurt's face. Kurt bends over, covering his eyes with his hands. Mercedes stares at the boy cringing in front of her. Her furious dissolves in a heartbeat. "Kurt, baby" She touches his shoulder gently. "What's wrong?"

Kurt's hand reaches out, trembling slightly. Mercedes slips the sunglasses into his hand. The countertenor stands up, pushing the glasses into place. "I don't know, Cedes. I don't know what's wrong with me." His voice shakes with unshed tears. Mercedes hugs him, rubbing her hand over his back. "Shh, Shh. Tell me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: We're Watching You**

As is his habit lately, Kurt doesn't go home after school. He can't deal with the worry in everyone's eyes, so he shows up just before dinner every night and then hides in his room. Carole asked him why he's been staying at school so late and he lied. He told her he was doing research for a paper. Now, he is driving up and down quiet side streets near the park. His head is killing him and he feels nauseous.

A stomach cramp grips him with fangs of pain. Kurt barely manages to pull the car over and get out before he throws up. God, this just keeps getting worse. Kurt sits on the curb, hands on his knees, head down. What the hell is wrong with him? He can't do this anymore. He's tired, so tired, and so scared. His eyes start to water, and he stares at the ground blinking tears away.

On the pavement in front of him, a pair of black leather pumps. And if Kurt knows his designers, which he does, these are Louboutin pumps. His eyes travel up, nice ankles, great legs, short black leather skirt. A pale hand holds out a handkerchief. Kurt takes the handkerchief, wipes his mouth and sits up. Standing before him, probably the most stunning woman he's ever seen. Like movie star stunning. Hey, Gay not blind.

Blond hair, pale skin, head to toe black leather. "How are you?"

"Not so good, thank you." Even a sick Kurt Hummel has manners.

She nods, and sits beside him on the curb, long legs stretched out before her, ankles crossed. She plants her hands on the grass, and leans back, raising her face to the sun. "Headaches, nausea, fatigue?"

Kurt stares at her. "Yeah, how did you know?"

Still facing the sky, enjoying the sun on her face, she shrugs. "It's pretty common for us."

"Us?"

She turns to face Kurt. "People like you and I. People born to the blood."

"What?"

"Hi, I'm Angela." She puts her hand out and Kurt shakes it. "You're Kurt Hummel."

"You know me?"

"Sure, it's my job. That's what I do. I watch the new ones to see if they are going to turn."

"To Turn?" Kurt isn't stupid, but he has no idea what she is talking about.

Angela gets comfortable on the grass, curling her legs under her. "Look, think of it like this. You've got an inherited blood condition."

Kurt shakes his head. "No I don't. My father would have told me something like that. Besides, I've seen a bunch of doctors in the last two weeks, and they haven't found anything."

Angela waves her hand in the air dismissively. "Of course not, they don't know what to look for. And your father doesn't know about this. It doesn't manifest in every generation. It's been four generations since someone in your family turned."

"Turned? Turned into what?"

Angela ignores his question. "You're almost through the change now. This is the most dangerous stage. If you don't listen to me, you could literally starve to death."

She removes her sunglasses and for the first time Kurt sees her eyes. Blue/green, just like his. This stranger has his eyes! "The change is rough, but if you do what I tell you to do, you'll recover. Once you turn, you'll be better than ever."

Kurt's in shock. "You have my eyes."

She smiles. "Well, they're my eyes but I know what you mean. We all have these eyes. All of us born to the blood."

Kurt shakes his head. Great! First he's sick and now he's crazy.

"You're not crazy." Angela curls her fingers around his, and holds his hand. "You've been doing so well. Don't freak out now." She lets his hand go and pats his knee. "Headaches, nausea, fatigue, stomach cramps, you can't eat, everything makes you sick. That's most of it. There's one more…" She pauses for a moment searching for the right word. "Let's call it a symptom, shall we?"

She takes his hand again, playing with his fingers. "The next symptom will appear soon, if it hasn't already. When you get emotional, when you get angry or aroused, your teeth will extend." She points to her canines. "These two."

Kurt drops her hand, and jumps away from her. He isn't crazy, she is. He turns and runs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: What Great Big Teeth You Have**

Kurt doesn't get any sleep that night. Who could sleep? A crazy woman tells him that he's got a blood disease the doctors don't know anything about. A crazy woman with his eyes. A crazy woman with his eyes who says …. No! So not going there. 3 AM and Kurt's still awake. Thank god, tomorrow's Saturday.

* * *

Kurt wanders into the kitchen for breakfast, even though it's 2PM and breakfast is long over. All he can stomach is a glass of orange juice anyway. Burt and Carole are sitting at the kitchen table, obviously waiting for him. Burt motions to an empty chair and Kurt sits. "Talk to us, Buddy."

Kurt nods. "I haven't been feeling well, lately."

Carole waits for him to continue, smiling encouragingly. Burt taps his fingers on the table. "We've noticed."

"I've seen some doctors."

"We know. Our health insurance company sent the forms to us."

Kurt looks down at the table and then across at his father. "Yeah, well, they say it's a virus that has to run its course. They said to get plenty of rest and check in with them next week." Kurt is lying through his teeth and he hates to lie to his father and Carole, but he can't see any other way. What can he tell them? He has no idea what's going on.

Burt stares at his son. He knows something is wrong here. "O.K. We'll wait a week. If you're not any better then you're seeing a specialist."

Kurt pours himself a glass of orange juice. "I'm sure I'll be fine, Dad. I just need some rest."

Carole and Burt are ominously silent as Kurt leaves the kitchen.

* * *

Kurt curls up in bed and catches up on American Idol on his laptop. His eyes are glued to a young male dancer wearing not much at all. His gums are sore but he ignores it, focused on the dancer. His eyes track the young man's hips, various X-Rated images flashing through his mind. A sharp tug of pain breaks into his erotic fantasies, and he raises a hand to his mouth. "What the hell?"

Kurt leans on the bathroom sink. He can't look. He knows what he's going to see if he looks, and that's just not possible. I'm not looking. _You have to look._ No, I don't. _Stop being such a_ _wuss and look_. Why does his mind talk to him in his father's voice? Kurt leans closer to the mirror and very slowly pulls his lip up. He moans and shuts his eyes. His heart is trying to break out of his chest. He opens his eyes slowly. Oh, God. They're still there. Fangs, he's got freaking fangs!

He takes deep breaths; slow, one in, one out. _You can't have a heart attack. You're only 18_. Yeah, really? Tell that to my heart. He stares into the mirror, willing himself to calm down. His heart slows and his breathing evens out. He watches as his canines recede into his gums, until they are only normal length again. He crumples onto the floor, back against the shower door. Oh! My! God!

* * *

Kurt takes it easy on Sunday. He does some homework, takes a nap in the afternoon, plays a few video games with Finn, and chats with Mercedes on the phone. He feels a little better, even manages to eat a bit at dinner. By the time he turns out his light Sunday night, he's convinced himself that the fang thing was a weird hallucination brought on by fatigue.

* * *

In Glee Club, Monday after school, they work on choreography. Sam gets creative. He pulls his shirt off, and demonstrates a move. Kurt is transfixed. Every muscle in Sam's chest and abdomen is distinctly delineated. His torso undulates with sinuous grace. He could put a belly dancer to shame. The other guys try and imitate Sam, with varying degrees of success. Kurt doesn't even try; he can't snap himself out of his Sam induced haze. Sam helps the others to get it right, adjusting their bodies; moving a hip there, a shoulder here. He turns to Kurt, stands behind him and puts his hands on the countertenors hips, moving them to the beat. Kurt flushes. Sam moves closer, syncing their bodies to the same rhythm. Kurt gasps, holds his hand over his mouth and rushes from the room.

He runs into the nearest washroom, and leans against the wall, breathing erratically. He doesn't have to look in the mirror. He knows what he will see. Shit! Shit! Shit! Oh, God. This is real. This is actually happening. It wasn't his imagination Saturday night. This is freaking real!

"Kurt, you O.K.?"

Kurt jerks upright, surprised at the intrusion. His lips draw back, exposing his fangs.

Finn backs away from Kurt, eyes wide. "Dude, what's with your teeth?"

The countertenor covers his mouth with his hand. "Would you believe me if I said I have no idea?"

Finn walks over to his step-brother very carefully, as if he was feeling his way through a mine field. He puts his hand under Kurt's chin, and tilts his head up. Kurt drops his hand. Truthfully, he's relieved that someone else knows about this. He's terrified, and tired of fighting this thing alone. Finn may not be an analytical genius but Kurt trusts him.

Finn stares at Kurt's mouth, watches as the fangs recede. "They're gone." Wonder is in his eyes and amazement threads through his voice.

Kurt nods. "Yeah, they get smaller when I'm calm."

Finn lets go of Kurt's chin. "Then Dude, you've got to stay calm."

Kurt laughs, actually laughs. He can't remember the last time he's done that. It feels good. "Why didn't I think of that?"

* * *

Finn and Kurt are holed up in Kurt's room. Kurt tells him everything; the sickness, the teeth, the crazy woman.

"This woman, this Angela, where is she now?"

"I don't know."

"You didn't get her number, her last name, anything?"

"No, she started talking about fangs and I bolted."

Finn nods. "No kidding! You're braver than I am, Dude. I'd still be running."

Kurt smiles, and shakes his head. "No you wouldn't."

"No, I probably would have run right home and hidden under the bed. This is some seriously scary stuff, bro."

"Yeah." They sit in silence for a while because, really, what can they say?

"She found you before, Dude. Maybe she'll find you again."

"You think?"

Finn pushes Kurt's shoulder. "Yeah, man."

Carole calls from upstairs. "Boys, dinner."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Drink This**

"You should come, Dude."

Kurt is curled up on his bed. He hugs his pillow tighter. "I'm not really up for a party, Finn."

Finn sits on Kurt's bed. "Kurt, except for school, you haven't left the house. You need a diversion."

"Wow! Big word, Finn."

Finn shrugs. "Yeah, Rachel slips a new word into my locker every day."

Finn twists his fingers in Kurt's comforter. "It's not really a party. It's just the Glee kids getting together. Come for an hour. Everyone's really worried about you."

"Finn!" Kurt's voice is sharp.

Finn holds his hands up in denial. "Nah, dude, I didn't tell them about the…" He motions to Kurt's teeth. "But they can see how sick you are. Mercedes told them how sensitive your eyes are now. They're worried."

Kurt sits up. "O.K. I'll come but just for an hour or so."

"Great!" Finn stands. "You want to come with me?"

"No, it's going to take me a while to get ready. You go on ahead. I should take my own car anyway, I'll probably leave early."

"Kay, see you there."

* * *

The "not-party" is in full swing, when Kurt walks down the stairs to Rachel's basement. The music is playing loudly, but only Santana and Brittney are dancing. Puck sees Kurt. "Yo, Princess." He pours something which is probably lethal, and certainly illegal, in to a plastic cup and hands it to Kurt. "For what ails you."

The diva takes a sip. "And what would that be, Puck?"

The jock throws an arm around Kurt's shoulders. "I have no fucking idea, dude. But it doesn't matter because after a few of these you won't even remember that you're sick."

There is nothing Kurt would like more than to forget this whole nightmare, so he drinks up, puts his arm around Puck's waist and lets the other boy drag him in to the party.

* * *

Three drinks later, Kurt is curled up in the corner of a leather couch. Finn is on the drums. Rachel and Blaine are singing a duet. Sam is teaching Puck a move he picked up during his short career as a stripper. The move involves some very intense hip thrusts, and Kurt can't take his eyes off them. Sam pumps his fists back and thrusts his pelvis out. Puck tries to copy him. Sam moves behind Puck and moves his hips into the correct position. Kurt sighs softly, mesmerized. He imagines himself between the other two boys, Sam at his back, Puck in front. His cock twitches in his jeans and this time he is not at all surprised when he feels his teeth extending. He puts his cup down, and waves at Finn. When he gets his step-brother's attention, he motions to the stairs. Finn nods. Kurt walks up the stairs carefully, suddenly feeling every drink that he's had.

He leaves his car parked in front of Rachel's house, because hello, three drinks, and walks home. As he walks, he feels his teeth recede. He's fairly calm about the whole thing, probably because of the liquor. He puts his hands in his pockets and starts to whistle as he strolls along the dark streets. He's not thinking of anything specific, mind just wandering… and then he stops. He stops walking, stops whistling, just stops. Well, isn't this just great? Just when you think it can't get any worse, it does. He's never, ever going to have sex. He gets fangs every time he even thinks about sex. How attractive is that?

Kurt starts to walk again, not whistling any more. He can just see it now, his profile on "Young white male seeks freak with teeth fetish." Of course, he could have sex with women because that wasn't arousing at all. His teeth wouldn't extend but then neither would anything else. He is so screwed!

He is so deep into his dark brooding that he almost bumps into the woman leaning against her parked car. Kurt's hands reach out to steady her. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

The woman's laughter floats into the air. "Don't worry about it, Kurt."

"Angela!"

Kurt throws himself around her, sobbing into her shoulder. "I'm never going to have sex. I'm going to die a virgin."

"Shhh! Shhh! Baby, shhh!" She pushes his head away from her shoulder and hands him a handkerchief.

Kurt mops his eyes. "You're always giving me handkerchiefs."

"Let me guess, you've been drinking."

"Yeah."

"Well, sometimes it helps. Feel better?"

Kurt thought about it for a minute. "Not really, but I don't seem to care anymore."

She nods. "Yeah, that's the liquor." She opens her car door. "Get in."

Kurt looks at her warily, and then shrugs. He sits in the passenger seat. She pats him on the shoulder, and hands him the seat belt clasp. "Good boy"

* * *

Her condo is on the penthouse floor. It's probably huge but Kurt only sees the living room. The décor is minimalist in the extreme. One leather couch faces a wall of naked window. Before them the lights of the city, birds' eye view. No tables, no lamps, no rugs, no other seating. The only other things in the room are two modern paintings hung together on one wall, one yellow, one blue. When Kurt looks at them he sees the sun and the ocean, which doesn't make any sense really. They're just splashes of colour, not representative of anything real. But when he looks at them, he feels the heat of the sun and hears the sound of waves on the shore.

Angela walks over to Kurt, stands in front of the paintings, a glass in her hand. "Do you like them?"

"Yes. I can feel them."

She hands the glass to him. "Drink this."

Kurt holds the glass and hesitates. "I've already had too much to drink tonight."

"It's not liquor. Drink."

Kurt takes a sip, and once he starts he can't stop. He has no clue what this stuff is, but it's the best thing he's ever had in his life. When the glass is empty, he licks his lips. "What is this?"

Angela smiles. "Feel better?"

Kurt thinks about it. He looks for a place to put the empty glass but there are no tables. Angela takes it from him, watching him closely. There's buzzing in his ears, and his head feels a little tight but then it's like an electric current is running right through him. He's suddenly bursting with energy. He feels like he could run a marathon, or jump tall buildings or…"I feel incredible! What is this stuff?"

"Blood."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Teach Me**

Kurt crumples. Angela catches him and lays him out on the couch. She tucks his hair back into place, and smiles. She takes the empty glass in to the kitchen, rinses it out, and places it on the drying rack. She walks back into the living room, checks on Kurt, and then stands by the massive window looking out into the night.

Kurt's eyes spring open, and he sits up in one smooth motion. His eyes dart around the unfamiliar room. Where the hell is he? Then he sees the blond woman standing at the window and it all comes back to him. He crosses the room, and stands beside her. She turns her head and smiles. "Welcome to my world." She takes his hand. "Your world now." They stand together in silence, hands clasped, looking out into the night. They are almost strangers and yet they are obviously alike; two fragile looking, pale skinned people with sea green eyes.

Angela makes herself comfortable on the couch and pats the cushion beside her. Kurt sits. "Blood?"

"Yes. You can eat other food, but you don't need to. You need blood. It's the only nourishment you do need." She holds his eyes with her own. "If you don't drink blood, you will die."

She takes his hand and squeezes it gently. "It's not so bad. You don't have to drink often, and a few sips will do. You can use your new teeth and drink from a person or you can use your credit card and order from a blood bank. It's up to you."

She stands and pulls the countertenor to his feet. "It's been a long night. I'll take you home. You need some time to get used to all this. I know it can be quite overwhelming."

Kurt runs a hand over his hair, a nervous habit. "Yeah, overwhelming, that's one way to put it."

Angela drops him off in front of his house. "Don't worry too much. Come to my place tomorrow night, and I'll give you some lessons. Show you what you need to know." She pats his hand again. "That's what I do. I escort newbies into our world." Kurt slides out, and closes the car door. Angela waves jauntily and drives away.

* * *

Kurt checks his watch as he enters the house. He's surprised to see that it's not quite 11PM. Carole and Burt are in the living room, watching the news. "How was the party?"

The diva thinks for a minute, trying to remember, the party seems so long ago. "Oh, you know, Glee Club. Everyone's a little crazy." He sees the worry in their eyes and hears the question they are very consciously not asking. "I'm feeling a lot better."

They can tell he means it. He watches, as they visibly relax. "Good. That's good, son."

Kurt gets ready for bed. Finn's not home yet and Kurt's too tired to wait up for him. He'll catch Finn up in the morning.

* * *

Kurt opens his eyes and stretches. He listens to his body, waiting for the headache, nausea, general crappiness to flood him. Nothing. No, not nothing. Something new, something he's not used to. Energy, strength, a background hum of expectation… he leaps out of bed, hit's his docked iPod and dances on the way to the shower. His body wash smells edible. His eyes are clear and his skin is perfect. The dark shadows that have lived under his eyes for the last month are gone. It takes him a long time to get dressed but not because he's too sick to rouse the interest. No, this morning it takes him forever because everything in his closet looks amazing. The colours are brighter and the materials cling to his hand with sensuous tenacity. Dior! He's back! And Angela was right, he feels better than ever.

By the time he tears himself away from his wardrobe, and makes it to the kitchen, its 11:30. Finn is eating cereal, and his Dad and Carole aren't around. Kurt does a runway worthy spin, his arms out to the side, grinning like a fool. Finn puts his spoon down, sits back in his chair, his smile getting larger and larger until it takes over his whole face. "You're better!"

"Yes!"

His step-brother launches himself at Kurt, and they stand in the middle of the kitchen, hugging each other and laughing. Finn pulls back. "What happened?"

"You better sit down. You're not going to believe this." Kurt pours himself a glass of juice and sits across from Finn. "She found me."

"Angela?"

Kurt nods. "Last night, I was walking home and she was there waiting for me. We went back to her condo, and she gave me something to drink. And I feel fantastic! I'm better than ever."

Finn's face scrunches up. "She didn't give you drugs, did she?" Now, Finn's worried. Kurt looks like his old self but he sounds high. There's no way that Finn wants his new brother to be an addict.

"No, no, it wasn't drugs."

"Then what?" Finn can't think of anything else that could accomplish such a dramatic change.

Kurt turns the glass around and around in his hands, and then looks back at his almost brother. "That's the icky part. She gave me blood." The diva sits up very still. "I have to drink blood, Finn."

"Dude! What are you, like a Vampire?" Finn snorts. This is a joke, right?

But Kurt isn't laughing. "I don't know, exactly. Angela didn't say. All I know is that I have to drink blood. She said if I don't I could starve to death. And she's right, I know it, I feel it." The absolute insanity of the whole thing overwhelms him again, and he slumps in his seat.

Finn sits there processing, not a lightning fast process for the football player. "Blood. O.K. Not good. But you feel better, right?"

"Yeah, I feel great, better than great." The wonder of that has Kurt smiling again. "Really freaking amazing!"

"Then it's all good, Dude."

* * *

Angela opens her door, and the words just pop out of his mouth. "Am I a Vampire?"

She laughs. "Come in, Kurt" She closes the door behind him. She curls up on the couch and waits for him to sit. "Yes, and No. You're not one of those big screen fictional Vampires. You're not going to live forever, or sparkle in the sun, or turn into a bat. But you do need blood, all your senses are heightened, you will be stronger and faster, and your life span will be longer because your body will age at a slower rate than most people. We're still people, we're not Dracula, but we are People of the Blood."

Angela stands up, and shakes out her black dress. "The most important thing for you to know is that you have to feed. So that's what I'm going to teach you first." She hands him a card. "Not all of us feed from people. Some don't like it, some find it inconvenient. It's a personal choice. If you decide you want to 'order in', call this number." She grins, showing a flash of fang. "They actually do take credit cards, I wasn't kidding about that." She takes her purse and keys, off a shelf in the hall closet, and opens the front door. "Come on, I'll show you how to grab a snack."

* * *

The club is dark and crowded and the music is blaring. They hold drinks which neither one of them touches because that's not the kind of liquid they're here for. Angela looks over the crowd and turns to Kurt. "I'm assuming that if you have to get up close and personal with someone, you'd prefer that person be male?"

Kurt answers on a sigh. "Oh, Yes!"

Angela grins. "Me too!" She scans the writhing mass before them. "See anyone you like?"

Kurt searches the room, and finds a man in his mid-twenties with longish hair and a nice smile. He's with a group of friends. The diva points the man out to his 'teacher'.

"Good choice!" She starts towards Kurt's chosen one, motioning the diva to follow. When she reaches Mr. Nice Smile, she turns to Kurt, holds up her hand, and points at her eyes. Stop. Watch. Kurt stays where he is.

* * *

"Hi, I'm Angela. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Kurt's choice is obviously surprised at Angela's sudden request but, really who says no to a woman who looks like that? "Sure."

Angela leads 'his' man away from the crowds and the noise, motioning Kurt to follow. The diva watches as she leans back against a wall, chatting and smiling. She touches the man's arm lightly, then his shoulder, finally letting her fingers caress his shirt. Mr. Nice Smile slips closer and closer to the blond… and then, his back is against the wall and Angela's mouth is at his neck. She draws back and licks her lips. "Kurt, your turn."

"Put your arm around him, hold his neck like this. It's going to feel fantastic, but you can't take too much. It's bad for you, and it can be fatal for them. I find it helps to count in my head, so I know when to stop."

Kurt fangs are fully extended, he's trembling with need. He can feel the man's heart beating. The diva can barely concentrate on Angela's instructions. "Gently, now, you don't want to hurt him."

His teeth slide into skin and flesh, so easy, so good. Oh. My. God! Kurt is gone, lost in a world of sensation. Angela grabs his neck and pulls him away from heaven. Kurt turns to her, snarling, blood on his lips. "Shhh! It's O.K. Shhh! Kurt, you with me?" Kurt blinks and nods. "Lick the entry point."

"What?"

"Lick where your teeth sank in. It closes the wound. If you've been gentle enough, come morning there won't even be a mark." Angela waits as Kurt bathes the wound. "Now, this is important. Watch me." She tilts the man's head up and looks into his eyes. "Go home and sleep. You had a great time at the club tonight." She straightens the man's collar, and hoists him up against the wall. She pulls Kurt back into a shadowy corner. They watch Mr. Nice Smile, as he looks around the empty hallway, shakes his head, and walks back into the club. "He won't remember a thing." Angela smiles at Kurt. "So? What do you think?"

"Beyond incredible! I don't care if I never have sex. That was freaking awesome!"

"Oh, baby, don't worry. You can do both."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Better Than Before**

Kurt walks down the halls of McKinley, sunglasses in place, a smile on his lips, and a bounce in his step. Mercedes is at his locker waiting for him. "Well, there's the Kurt Hummel we all know and love."

The diva raises his BFF's hand to his lips and kisses the air above her fingertips. "Good morning, girlfriend."

"I can see that you feel better."

Kurt switches books from his messenger bag to his locker. "As right as rain, and better than ever."

Mercedes giggles as Kurt threads his arm through hers and they head to class. "Oh, and feeling better makes you talk like a cheesy 50's musical."

Kurt huffs. "Fine, have it your way." He deepens his voice. "I'm awesome, Dude."

His BFF laughs. "You can talk like a 50's musical as much as you want, Kurt." The relief she feels is clear in her voice. "I'm just happy that you're finally better. I was so worried about you."

Kurt squeezes her hand. "Me too, Cedes, me too."

* * *

Now that Kurt's feeling better, style is once again his first priority. His clothing choices are very different though; dark colours, stark and strong, minimal accessories.

Tina's the first to comment. "I like the new look, Kurt."

"Thanks, Tina."

"Yeah, man." Mike adds. "This is different. What happened to the scarves?"

"And the hats?" This from Mercedes, the girl appreciates a fine piece of headwear.

Artie chimes in. "I don't see any bowties, Kurt."

"I thought I'd leave the bowties to Blaine."

Blaine bows. "Thank you." He looks his former boyfriend over. "Very classy, Kurt."

Puck takes a sip of his milkshake. "You look HOT."

Kurt's eyes widen in surprise. "Ummm, thank you?"

* * *

There's something off about Hummel. Puck doesn't know exactly what, and it's driving him crazy. He sits in Glee watching the Princess. Kurt's dancing with Rachel. They're doing some drippy waltz thing from the King and I. The Streisand clone doesn't know word one about waltzing. Kurt is teaching her. He takes her hand, and sends her spinning away from him. Then he pulls her back in and bends her backwards until she's almost horizontal. He's leaning over her, laughing and she's looking up at him like he's some kind of dream. They are absolutely still, Rachel's face has wonder and worship all over it. What the fuck? Then Kurt pulls her back into position, and they're dancing like nothing happened.

What the hell was that? Since when does the Princess turn the baby Streisand on? Rachel thinks the sun rises and sets with Finn, so what the fuck was that all about?

* * *

Mr. Schue is leading Glee Boot Camp for the terminally bad at dance. Finn is trying not to trip on his own feet. Blaine is concentrating, these moves are new to the ex-Warbler, and he wants to get them right. Mike, Sam, and Kurt are dancing in a line; Kurt in the middle. Kurt is moving with the other two boys as if they are telepathically linked. His body flows through the steps as if he is made of water. Smooth is an understatement. The kid is beyond sensual, so HOT that Puck is starting to burn just looking at him. What happened to his trade mark spastic shoulder shimmy? The one Mike had tried to nix.

When the fuck did the Princess get HOT? A week ago, he had scared eager virgin written all over him. Now, suddenly he's a walking wet dream.

"Puck, you just here to watch or do you want to learn something?" Mr. Schue interrupts Puck's fixation with the Hummel Mystery.  
"Right there, Mr. Schue"

* * *

Azimo passes Kurt in the hallway. "Going over to the dark side, Hummel?" The jock is surprised when the diva stops walking and turns to face him. The Glee kid has always either ignored his jabs or tossed off a sarcastic bon mot as he continued on his way. The delicate boy stands directly in front of Azimo, confronting him. The jock is suddenly nervous, which is crazy, because, hey, this is Hummel we're talking about.

Kurt raises his sunglasses and stares into Azimo's eyes. "Are you trying to say something, Neanderthal?" Azimo hears Kurt but he can't answer, he can't move. It's like Kurt's eyes are holding him in place, which is just crazy. The diva lowers his glasses and waves the jock away. "You can go now." Azimo walks away, shaking his head, wondering what the hell just happened.

Puck was on his way to his afternoon nap in the Nurse's office when he sees Azimo and Kurt standing in the middle of the hallway. He stops to see if Kurt needs any help. But Kurt doesn't need any help. What the hell was that? Since when does the Princess confront his nemesis like that, so cool and casual? Puck wants to know what's going on, and he knows exactly who can tell him.

* * *

"Yo, Hudson, hold up." Finn waits by his car, as Puck jogs over. "My truck's acting up, can you give me a lift?"

"No problem." Finn turns the ignition and puts the car in reverse. "You should get Kurt to look at your truck, dude. He's good with this stuff."

"Yeah, if it's still wonky tomorrow, I'll ask him." There's nothing wrong with Puck's car, it's sitting in his drive way perfectly happy. He needs some time alone with Finn. "So, Hummel's good now?"

"Yeah, good thing, Burt was freaking out."

"What was wrong with him?"

Finn shrugs. "Don't know, a virus thing maybe."

"He looked like shit for weeks, and then" Puck snaps his fingers. "presto, he's fine. What happened?" Puck watches as Finn's fingers tighten on the steering wheel.

"I guess he just got better." Finn's a terrible liar. He knows something and Puck's going to find out what.

* * *

"Dude, you suck!"

"Do not!"

"Yeah, you do man. My kid sister plays better than you."

"I can't play when I'm hungry."

"Right!" Puck throws him a bag of chips, and Finn catches it as if it is a football. He raises his arms in the air, imagining a cheering crowd.

The teens sit on the floor in front of the game console, munching in silence.

"Kurt's different, now."

Finn chokes. His eyes tear up. "What do you mean?"

"Did you see him dance yesterday? He's making Mike look bad." Puck's not telling Finn about the spooky Rachel/Kurt waltz thing. He's not sure what he saw, and he doesn't want Finn thinking Rachel's cheating on him with his brother. So not going there!

Finn shrugs. "I guess he's been practicing."

Puck pop's the tab on a coke, and offers it to Finn. He takes one for himself, and settles back on the couch. "I saw something really weird today."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, Azimo was being his usual dick self, and the Princess walked up to him, pushed his sunglasses up, and stared him down. " Puck watches Finn. "Azimo didn't say anything; he just turned and walked away." Finn's knuckles are white around the coke can. "So, what's with Hummel?

"Nothing, he's fine."

"Right! In the last two days, he's gone from looking like shit, to being Mr. Perfect. He's dressing differently, he's dancing like he's on fire, and he's scaring Azimo. What's going on, Finn? And don't tell me 'nothing'."

"You have to talk to Kurt, Dude. I can't tell you anything."

"Did he tell you not to tell me?"

"No, not exactly."

"So? Look, man, you know I care about the Princess, right? He's my boy."

Finn's almost pulling his hair out, he's so agitated. He's in agony. He's dying to talk to someone about this, and Kurt didn't specifically ask him not to tell anyone. "I don't think Kurt wants anyone to know, Dude. And you wouldn't believe it anyway."

Puck leans closer to Frakenteen. "Wouldn't believe what?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Fun**

Kurt walks into the Queen's Legs Tavern. Well, he doesn't walk in, not exactly. He puts every effort into swishing in. Judging by the looks he's getting, his swish is making quite the statement. Just to make sure that his statement is heard loud and clear, Kurt is wearing black PVC sprayed on pants and a turquoise see-through mesh top. The top is too tight and too short, revealing 3 inches of skin above his pants. Kurt takes a seat at the bar and makes a production of crossing his legs. He then proceeds to order the most effeminate sounding drink he can think of.

The bar is dark and dingy. There isn't a woman in the place and the male patrons, most of whom sit glumly staring into their beer, have certainly never heard the term metrosexual. Kurt is quite possibly the only man who has ever entered the bar, not wearing jeans and work boots. Finn would be very happy here, flannel shirts are de rigueur. Drink in hand, Kurt spins on his bar stool, and checks out the crowd. Not many likely looking prospects here tonight; wait….perfect! One man, early 30s, balding, beginnings of a beer belly, is giving Kurt a disgusted look. The diva smiles at him, and waves. The man scowls and looks away. Kurt waits, and the next time the man frowns at him, he blows him a kiss. Mr. Oh-If-Only-Hair-Plugs-Weren't-So-Expensive flushes bright red with embarrassment. Of course, embarrassment turns to anger, and he comes stalking over to Kurt. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing faggot?"

"Why don't you let me buy you a drink?" Kurt touches the other man's arm.

Mr. Beer Belly snarls and pushes Kurt's hand away. "Don't touch me homo."

The diva slips off his stool, and stands too close to the other man. "My name is Kurt, and you are?"

"None of your fucking business! If you don't' get the fuck away from me, I'm going to push your face in."

Kurt leans into the angry man, making sure their bodies graze. "Really? You think you can take me?"

Mr. Beer Belly snorts derisively. "Any day of the week, Nancy."

"Let's see, shall we?" Kurt swishes to the exit, the other man on his heels.

Kurt scans the parking lot; empty. He turns, grabs Mr. Beer Belly by the throat and holds him up against the wall. The man gurgles and kicks his feet in the air. Kurt lowers him slowly, leans into his neck…and feeds.

* * *

Oh, Yes! Kurt's definitely a fan of 'snacking 'as opposed to 'ordering in'. He hunts 2 or 3 times a week. He probably doesn't need to, but he's just having so much fun! He doesn't go to the dance clubs, they're way too civilized. He favours seedy bars, the kind where moose heads are the décor of choice. He paints a big gay sign on his back, and then he waits for the inevitable "Hey, Faggot!"

Kurt smiles, and simpers, and generally incites the Neanderthals, until they are just itching to hit him. It usually doesn't take much; apparently Kurt's very existence is enough to make these guys see red. When they get to the violent stage Kurt suggests they step outside… and then, the diva has them for dinner. He's always very careful not to leave a mark on them. Angela taught him well, after all. When he looks into their eyes, he whispers a suggestion that he really hopes will change their lives, or at least, drive them crazy.

* * *

Tonight's snack, is a big burly type who, unfortunately, spends too much time on a bar stool and not enough time in the gym. Kurt looks deep into his eyes and whispers, "You Like Cock!" Kurt watches as the man shakes his bleary head, and walks away baffled.

"Having fun?" Angela is suddenly standing next to him.

Kurt laughs. "YES!"

Angela hooks her arm through his and they walk back to her car. "You know, these suggestions you plant will wear off, and they'll be back to their old homophobic selves."

"Yeah, I didn't think it would last forever." Kurt laughs. "But they are going to have some really uncomfortable memories."

Angela stops beside a black Lexus and takes out her car keys. "How are you, Kurt?"

"I'm really very good. Thank you."

"Have you told anyone?"

Kurt nods. "My step-brother knows. He's been pretty good about it."

"Good. You need some people that you can trust with this." Angela hoists herself onto the hood of her car, as comfortable as if she was sitting on the couch in her living room. "I know you're having fun right now, playing mind games with the homophobes but one day you're going to meet someone you like. Someone you're going to want in your life." She taps one of her canines lightly. "I know you think that this will scare everyone away, that you'll never be able to have a relationship or even a lover. But you're wrong. There are people who can love us, love all of us, even the scary bits." She holds her hand up to stop Kurt's certain protest. "When you find that person, there's something you should know. When you feed from one person for a prolonged period of time, their metabolism will sync with yours. They will begin to age more slowly. They will never become one of us. They won't need to feed, but their life-span will parallel our own."

She jumps down from the car, and hugs Kurt. "I won't be around for a while. I'm off to usher in a newbie. If you need me for anything, call the 'order-in' number. They know how to reach me. It was nice meeting you, Kurt. I'm glad you made it through the transition." She walks around her car and opens the door on the driver's side. "Oh, Kurt, one more thing. The sex part is easy; all you have to do is plant a suggestion. It's the caring part that's hard." She waves and drives off.

* * *

When Kurt gets home it's late, and the house is quiet. He assumes everyone is asleep so he's surprised to find Finn pacing in his bedroom. "Dude, where were you? I've been waiting forever."

Kurt tosses his keys on his desk, and takes his jacket off. "Were we supposed to do something tonight, Finn?"

"Dude! What are you wearing?"

Kurt looks down at himself, oh, right. "It's a costume for something I'm working on. Forget about it. What's up?"

"I have to talk to you about something."

Kurt sits cross-legged on his bed, his back against the head board. "Talk."

Finn keeps pacing, shooting worried looks at his almost brother, and wringing his hands.

"Finn, sit. You're making me nervous."

"Look, Kurt, don't be mad, O.K.?"

"Oh, this can't be good."

"Puck knows."

"Puck knows?"

Finn taps his canine tooth. "About your teeth, and the blood thing."

"And how does he know about this, Finn?"

"I sort of told him, dude."

"Finn!"

"I couldn't help it. He kept asking me all these questions."

"Like what?"

"He said you were different now. He said you dress different, and you dance different and that Azimo is afraid of you. I'm sorry Kurt, I shouldn't have told him. I don't think he'll tell anyone, though."

Kurt sighs. "Thanks for telling me, Finn. Don't worry about it. Puck isn't going to tell anyone."

As Finn walks up the stairs to his room, he can't help but think that Kurt's voice had sounded a little scary when he said that Puck wasn't going to tell anyone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: I Like to Watch**

Kurt climbs out of his baby and shoulders his messenger bag. He's early today, and the halls are quiet. Puck is slouched against the locker next to Kurt's. Oh, why am I not surprised? "Good morning, Mr. Puckerman. To what do I owe this honor?"

Puck doesn't bother answering. He waits as Kurt switches out the books from his locker to his bag. The diva closes his locker, and starts to walk away. Puck grabs his arm. "Let's see."

Kurt shakes his arm out of Puck's grasp. "See what?"

Puck snorts. "Don't play dumb with me, Princess. I had a little talk with Finn. Let's see."

Kurt reaches out, grabs Puck's collar, and lifts him into the air. He smiles widely, deliberately showing fang. "Seen enough?" He lowers the other boy until his feet touch the ground again, then he turns and walks away.

Holy shit! Puck had not believed Finn, not really. The story Finn had stammered out was the biggest load of bullshit he had ever heard. He knew that Finn believed it but, let's face it, Finn is no Einstein. Puck had thought that the Princess was messing with his almost brother. He had thought the diva was hiding something, and the blood drinking story was a cover-up. Wrong! So wrong! Kurt just picked him up and held him in the air like he was some kind of doll. Puck got an eyeful of those fangs, up close and personal. They were so NOT bogus Halloween plastic. They were scary real.

* * *

Its 10:30 PM. Puck is sitting in his truck, across the street and two houses down from Kurt's. He is not stalking the Princess. He's watching the Hummel's front door. When Kurt leaves, Puck's going to follow him. O.K. It sounds exactly like stalking, but he's not sending him weird notes or watching him undress through binoculars, so not stalking, right? Someone, he's not saying who, (freakishly tall, passable football player, bad dancer) told him that the Princess was going out tonight to feed. The whole thing is unbelievable; the blood, the teeth, the super-strength. But nothing is more unbelievable than the thought of Mr. Fastidious walking up to some stranger and … This, Puck just has to see.

* * *

Kurt gets out of his car, shrugs his coat off, and leaves it in the back seat. Puck's eyes widen, and his mouth falls open when he sees how Kurt is dressed. The Princess is wearing club wear for the kind of club that doesn't exist in this town. Kurt is poured into something dark and shiny, with slashes cut over his chest. This outfit would draw stares even at Scandals, in the dive Kurt is walking into, it could get him killed. What the hell is the boy thinking?

Puck sits at a table in the back, nursing a beer, and watching Kurt. The Princess is making a spectacle of himself, he's getting stares and scowls from almost every guy in the crowded bar. Puck can hear the grumbling around him: "Would you look at this guy! This isn't L.A. We don't want none of them here!" A tall guy, in a baseball cap, stands and stalks over to Kurt. Puck's too far away to hear what the stranger says to Kurt but he can hear Kurt's high giggle in response. Oh, shit! The guy's fist is flying towards Kurt's face. Puck jumps to his feet. He starts to run towards Kurt…and stops. The Princess has his arm around the other man's shoulders. He keeps the guy shackled to his side and forces him out of the bar. No Way!

Puck follows the Princess and the idiot out of the bar. He scans the dark parking lot. Kurt has baseball cap guy flattened against a wall, his face buried in the guy's neck. Puck watches as Kurt stares into the other guy's eyes. The countertenor pulls the other guy away from the wall, stands him up straight, turns him around and pushes his back lightly. The guy sleep walks to his car, gets in and drives away.

Kurt tugs his top into place. "Any particular reason you're following me, Noah?"

The jock shoves his hands into his pockets and strolls towards Kurt. "So, what is this Hummel, your own personal crusade to rid the world of jackasses?"

Kurt laughs. "I wish!" He walks to his car, Puck falling into step beside him. "I don't kill them. I don't even hurt them." He presses the button on his key to unlock the car, but he doesn't open the door. He turns and leans against it, facing Puck. "I just take a little blood, and plant a suggestion or two."

Puck takes a second to process that. He snorts. "You mess with their minds."

Kurt shrugs. "If you call what they have minds, then yes."

"What do you say?"

Kurt grins. "You Like Cock!"

The jock's laugh rings out loudly in the deserted parking lot. "Nice!"

Kurt opens his car door. "It won't last forever, but I figure they'll have a few really uncomfortable days." The diva slides into the driver's seat. "Night, Noah."

Driving home, Puck's still smiling. You've got to hand it to Hummel; he's creative.

* * *

Saturday morning, and like every other morning since he turned, Kurt feels wonderful. He sings through his shower and sits at his vanity to apply moisturizer. He's more vigilant than ever about skin care because this face has to last for quite a while. Kurt has no intention of living 2 or 3 lifetimes looking like Rip Van Winkle, not if he can help it!

Carole's setting a plate of waffles on the table as Kurt enters the kitchen. "Perfect timing."

Kurt takes a seat. Finn passes him the syrup. Burt folds the paper he had been reading. "What are you guys doing today?"

"I'm meeting Mercedes and Quinn at the mall; shopping, lunch. Then I'll probably head over to the Lima Bean for coffee with Blaine and Sam."

Finn cuts into his waffle. "Blaine and Sam a thing now?"

"Blaine says their just friends, but they spend a lot of time together." Kurt shrugs. "Who knows?"

Carole pours syrup onto her waffles. "What about you, Finn?"

"Rachel wants to go to that College Information day they're having down at the convention centre."

"Fun!"

Finn rolls his eyes. "Yeah, Dude! I don't know why she wants to go. She's already decided what schools she's applying to." Finn puts his plate in the dishwasher. "She bribed me with dinner at that all you can eat Brazilian beef place."

* * *

Kurt's getting ready to meet Mercedes, when he's more than a little surprised to get a text from Puck. The McKinley badass isn't exactly in the habit of contacting him.

_You going out tonight to mess with guys' minds?_

_Yes_

_Where?_

_The Bucket of Blood down by the old train tracks._

_C U there_

Kurt pockets his phone. He grabs his car keys and checks that he has his wallet. He's not particularly happy with Puck's sudden interest. He really doesn't need an audience.

* * *

Puck looks around, and grimaces with disgust. This bar is even worse that the dive last night. How does Hummel even know about these places? Puck checks his watch, 11:05 PM. O.K. Princess, where are you? As if his thoughts have conjured him up, Kurt breezes into the bar. Tonight, he's in red leather, and heads snap all over the room, as everyone turns to watch him swish his way to the bar. Puck sits back in his chair, and waits for the show to start.

It doesn't take long, less than 15 minutes later, the diva walks out of the bar with some Neanderthal hot on his heels. Puck slaps some cash on the table and follows them out. Kurt presses one hand into the stranger's chest, pinning him in place. Puck watches as the countertenor tilts the guy's head, leans into him, and attaches his mouth to the other man's neck. Puck feels like a voyeur, but he can't tear his eyes away. Kurt licks the guy's neck, stares into his eyes, and speaks lowly. Puck can't hear the words, but he doesn't have to. He knows what Kurt is saying. The diva watches the stranger walk away, and then turns to Puck. "Why are you here, Noah?"

"I don't like the idea of you in these dives by yourself."

"That's sweet, Noah. But I can take care of myself." Kurt steps close to the jock. "Why are you really here?"

Puck can feel the blush heating his face. He wants to say something flippant, to laugh and walk away, but he can't. Kurt's eyes are locked on his, and the truth comes spilling out of his mouth. "I like to watch."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: How Does It Feel?**

Kurt opens his car door and tosses his messenger bag on to the passenger seat.

"Hummel!" Puck stops his truck beside Kurt's Navigator, the driver's side window down. "Pick you up at 10:30?"

Kurt nods, and gets into his car. He's not sure exactly how it happened, but Puck has become his partner in crime. They visit the various dives around Lima together. They take Puck's truck because Kurt's Navigator stands out too much. Most of the time, after Kurt has grabbed his 'snack', they drive to a coffee place or a different bar and just hang out. Kurt actually enjoys the other boy's company, who knew the jock had a sense of humour? Also, it's kind of nice to have someone to share this weirdness with. Puck's turned the whole thing into a game. They walk into a dive, check out the assembled losers, and then take bets on who the first one to approach Kurt will be. Kurt owes Puck $10.00.

* * *

"Kurt" Burt walks down the stairs into his son's room.

Kurt turns from his lap-top. "What can I do for you, Dad?"

"You've been seeing a lot of Puckerman lately."

"Yeah, we've been hanging out."

"Are you guys dating?

Kurt laughs. "No! We're just friends."

Burt nods. "Yeah, well, just checking. Let me know if anything changes."

Kurt turns back to his computer as he father leaves the room. "Don't worry, Dad. I'll keep you posted."

* * *

Puck pulls into Kurt's driveway. He puts his hand out to stop Kurt from leaving the car. "What's it like?"

Kurt turns to face Puck. He grins, his crystal eyes glowing with excitement. "It's freaking awesome. I can feel fireworks exploding in my brain."

"Do you think it feels that good for your 'snack'?"

"I don't know. I've never thought about it." Kurt shrugs. "I could ask one of them, I guess. Why?"

The jock stares over the diva's shoulder, not meeting his eyes. "Don't know. Just wondered."

"O.K. I'll ask the next guy, and let you know." Kurt reaches for the door handle.

"Kurt" The diva turns to the other boy, surprised. Puck never calls him Kurt. "I want to try it. I want to be your next snack."

"What?"

"Dude!"

"O.K., O.K. I heard you." Kurt stares at Puck. "But why, why would you want to do this?"

Puck runs a hand over his stupid strip of hair. "I have no fucking idea, Princess. I just have to know what it feels like."

The diva thinks about it. "Well, I guess it would be nice not to have to chew on a stranger." Kurt nods, decision made. "O.K. Come over tomorrow night." The countertenor grimaces. "I won't have to squeeze into one of these ridiculous ensembles. Thanks, Noah." Kurt closes the car door, waves at Puck, and starts up his front walk.

* * *

Carole opens the door. "Noah! I haven't seen you in a while. Come in. How are you?"

"Good. I'm good, Mrs. Hudson."

"I'm sorry. You just missed Finn. He's out with Rachel."

"No, that's O.K. I'm going to hang out with Kurt."

"Oh! He's in his room, go on down."

"Thanks, Mrs. H." Puck walks down the hallway. Carole turns to Burt, and raises her eyebrows. Burt shakes his head, and goes back to his TV show.

* * *

Kurt is searching his DVD collection for something that Puck would like, when he hears footsteps on the stairs. "Noah, what do you want to do first? Movies? Video Games?"

"No" Puck touches his neck. "I want to try this first."

"Sure" Kurt motions to the couch in front of the TV. "Here, sit."

The diva sits beside the jock, and tilts the other boy's head. "I don't think it hurts." He leans in, and sinks his fangs into the jock's neck. Puck gasps and goes still. Kurt retracts his teeth, licks the wound, and watches Puck, waiting for his reaction.

Puck opens his eyes, stares at Kurt for a second, and then pulls the diva down on the couch, sliding over him. The jock locks his mouth onto Kurt's, and moans into his mouth. Kurt plants both hands on Puck's chest and pushes him away. "Noah! What the hell are you doing?"

"Kissing you." Puck tries to reach Kurt's mouth again, but the diva holds him away easily.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why? Cause I want to." Puck leans into Kurt again.

Kurt pushes Puck back until he's sitting on the couch. "Noah, think. You never wanted to kiss me before. Why now?"

"I've wanted to kiss you for months."

"What?"

"You were with Blaine. And then you guys broke up and I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't think you'd believe me."

"You're right. I don't believe you. I think this is some kind of bizarre side effect of me" Kurt waggles his fingers in quotation marks. "snacking on you."

"Oh! And all your other snacks tried to kiss you?"

"No, never."

Puck smiles in triumph. "I didn't think so."

Kurt starts to pace. He's twisting his hands together. "I must have done something. Angela said sex is easy. You just have to suggest it."

"Did you?"

Kurt stops pacing. He goes over everything in his mind. "No, I closed your wound and I was very careful not to look into your eyes. I didn't want to influence you."

"See" Puck walks over to Kurt and takes his hands. "It's not the 'snacking'. It's just me, wanting you."

"Right!" Kurt takes his hands back and moves away from Puck. "So, it's just a coincidence that you kiss me, right after I dine on you?"

"That was freaking awesome. Fireworks, just like you said. My neck is yours anytime you want it."

Kurt sighs. "O.K. Whatever this is, it will wear off in a few days. We'll just consider the kiss a strange side effect, and forget about it."

Puck reaches a hand out and cups Kurt's hip. "Kurt, I don't have some weird fang fetish. I have a Princess fetish." Puck ignores the diva's snort of disbelief. "Do you really think I'd spend my Friday and Saturday nights with you for the last three weeks if I didn't like you?" Puck draws Kurt closer, sliding his arm around the other boy's waist. "Your 'snacking' excursions were a way for me to be with you, and I wanted to be with you, anyway I could." The jock speaks low, his breath whispering against the diva's skin. "I don't want to forget about that kiss."

Kurt knows it's not true, of course, but he really wants to believe him. He wraps his arms around the other boy, curls into his body, and slides their lips together. God, Noah tastes good, and feels good. And oh! Can the boy kiss! Kurt's hands roam over Puck's shoulders, and down his back, and twist into the belt at the jock's waist. Puck splays his hands across Kurt's ass, and pulls him closer. Puck tears his mouth away from Kurt's. "It's not going to wear off, Princess." The jock drops a light kiss on the diva's forehead. "I wanted you when you came back from Dalton." Puck drops another kiss on Kurt's cheek. "I wanted you when you were with Blaine." The Titan player nibbles on the countertenor's jaw. "I want you now, and I will want you tomorrow, and the next day, and the next." Puck nips at Kurt's lower lip, and the diva opens for him.

Kurt leans over Puck, unbuttoning his shirt. "I shouldn't be doing this. You're going to be pissed at me when you're back to yourself."

Puck threads his fingers through Kurt's hair. "Princess, shut the fuck up, and kiss me."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: I Want You**

Kurt's chatting with Mercedes, as he searches for his Calculus book in his locker. An arm snakes around his waist, he turns, and Puck's lips are on his. Kurt sighs into the jock's mouth, and wraps his arms around the other boys' neck. Puck breaks the kiss, and backs away from Kurt, grinning. "Hasn't worn off yet!"

"Kurt Hummel!" Mercedes' eyes are wide, question marks all over her face. "Talk fast, white boy."

Kurt rolls his eyes and slams his locker shut. "Puck's trying to convince me that he likes me."

Mercedes shifts her books in her arms. "Looks pretty convincing to me."

"Yeah."

* * *

In the cafeteria, at lunch time, Kurt sits with the other Glee kids. Puck saunters over, totally ignores the empty seat beside Kurt, and slides onto the diva's lap. Around the table mouths drop open in shock!

The diva wraps an arm around the jock's shoulder, and rolls his eyes. "Puck thinks he likes me."

Mike mumbles around his sandwhich. "Yeah, I can see that."

"I don't think I like you. I do like you." Puck drops a kiss on Kurt's cheek.

"Hey, Puckerman, did the fairy turn you into a cocksucker?" Azimo stands beside the Glee table, lunch tray in his hands.

Puck glares up at the other football player, but he doesn't move from Kurt's lap. "Yeah, he did. Now shut the fuck up, or I'll smear your face all over the floor."

Azimo laughs as he walks away. Puck leans back against Kurt's shoulder. The diva blushes, and whispers so only the boy on his lap can hear. "I haven't turned you into a cocksucker."

"Not yet, but I'm hoping." Puck kisses Kurt's jaw, and then slides off his lap. He moves to the empty seat, and takes his lunch out of his backpack.

Kurt's trying to stay impassive, he's still convinced that Puck's feelings are temporary, but these PDAs are winning the other boy points, big time!

* * *

Puck leans against Kurt's Navigator, his arms around the diva curled against him. "So, if you're right, and this is some weird side-effect, how long before it wears off?"

"I don't know, a day or two."

"Better kiss me now then." Puck nibbles at Kurt's lips, and the diva moans and melts into the other boy.

* * *

The whole school thinks that Puck and Kurt are a couple. The initial surprise that the resident badass was hot for the fairy is long gone. The boys are old news. No one even looks twice when they hold hands.

Puck drags Kurt into the nearest supply closet. It's been a whole 8 hours since they kissed the night before and that's way too long. "Good morning, Princess."

"Good morning, Noah." Kurt whispers into Puck's lips, and welds their mouths together again. Their hands roam over each other, but when Puck glides his hand across Kurt's fly, the diva moves his hand away and steps back.

Puck groans and rests his forehead against Kurt's. "Babe, please, I'm not going to change, I know it."

Kurt runs his fingers through Puck's ridiculous hair. "Yeah, if you were going to snap out of this, you should have done it by now. It's been two weeks." Kurt picks up his messenger bag from the floor and opens the door. "I'm going to call Angela."

Puck takes Kurt's hand. "Yeah?"

Kurt raises the other boy's hand to his lips. "Yeah. I have to know."

Puck throws an arm around the diva's shoulder. "Good!"

* * *

Kurt paces his room, waiting for Angela to return his call. The phone buzzes in his hand, and he fumbles to hit the call icon with shaking hands. "Kurt, what's wrong?"

Kurt sighs in relief. He's never been so glad to hear anyone's voice in his life. "Nothing, nothing, I'm fine. I've got a question though."

"That's what I'm here for. Talk."

"A friend said he wanted to know what it felt like, you know, to be the 'snack'." Kurt clears his throat. "When we were done, he kissed me, and ever since then he's been trying to convince me that he likes me. But I think it must be some illusion triggered by the 'snacking'." The anxiety is clear in Kurt's voice. "I want it to be real, but I don't think it is."

"How long ago was this?"

"A little over two weeks."

"Did you plant a suggestion?"

"No!"

Angela laughs at the indignation in Kurt's tone. "Just checking, wouldn't matter if you had though. Kurt, in all my years, I've never heard of a planted suggestion that lasted for more than 4 days."

"Really?"

"Really. I don't know this guy, I can't guarantee that he's telling the truth when he says he likes you. He could be lying. People lie all the time. What I can guarantee is that whatever he's saying, it has absolutely nothing to do with 'snacking'"

"Thanks, Angela."

"Oh, and Kurt, one more thing. No one ever volunteers to be food, unless they like you. No one."

Kurt stares at his phone. He can't stop smiling. He's not really thinking at all. Words flash on his mind's IMAX screen, letters skyscraper tall and blinking in neon. "HE LIKES ME, HE REALLY LIKES ME!" He's plagiarising from Sally Fields' Academy Award speech, but he doesn't care. It's not a fang induced delusion! Kurt jumps and punches the air in excitement.

* * *

Kurt hasn't seen Puck all morning and he's nearly jumping out of his skin with anticipation. He's sitting at the Glee table, totally oblivious to the conversation around him, eyes on the cafeteria entrance. Puck saunters in, and Kurt is off his chair and running. He grabs Puck and pulls him into a kiss. Catcalls and whooping noises erupt around them. "Get a room, dudes!"

Kurt tears his lips away from Puck, his crystal eyes sparkling. "You Like Me!"

Puck grins. "That's what I've been trying to tell you, babe."

* * *

The diva stares at the club wear strewn across his bed. He frowns as he runs his fingers over the black PVC pants. They look good but they get really hot. Boots clang down the stairs, and Kurt turns. "Noah, you're early!" The boys fold into each other, arms and tongues searching. Kurt steps back and motions to the bed. "I can't decide what to wear tonight. What do you think?"

Puck walks over to the bed, scoops up all the slinky, sleazy clothes and dumps them on the floor. "You're not wearing any of this stuff."

"Noah Puckerman! Are you insane?"

Puck takes Kurt by the arms and sits them both down on the bed. Kurt's stronger than Puck by light years, but he doesn't want to use his strength against his boyfriend, so he lets Puck move him.

"Kurt" Puck twines their fingers together. "I don't want you to go to those bars anymore. I can't stand watching you with those morons."

Kurt frowns, not understanding. "You said you liked to watch."

Puck nods. "Yeah, you look really hot controlling those guys. But now, I know what it feels like. I don't want anyone else to feel that with you."

Kurt smiles and traces a thumb over Puck's cheek. "Honey, I've got to feed."

"Yeah, but you don't have to 'snack' on strangers. Wouldn't you rather 'snack' on me?"

"I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking me. I'm asking you. Kurt, please. I don't want it to be anyone else. I want it to be me, only me."

Kurt snuggles into the other boy, wrapping his arms around Puck. "I want it to be only you." Kurt raises his head and looks into hazel eyes. "You sure?"

There is no hesitancy in Puck's voice. "YES"

The diva rises on his knees, tilts his boyfriend's head to the right angle, and sinks his fangs into warm flesh.

Kurt licks the wound, and sits back. Puck's eyes pop open, he grins, and drags Kurt down onto the bed, stretching out over him. "Fucking Awesome!" Puck rolls them over until Kurt is on top. The jock reaches up and pushes the diva's hair back in place. "I hope you like the taste of my blood, because you're never 'snacking' on anyone else."

Kurt's laughter spells happy. "I'm good with that!"


End file.
